


less than ideal in more ways than one

by queenoftheiceandsnow



Category: X Company
Genre: Developing Relationship, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Finale, character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4101949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenoftheiceandsnow/pseuds/queenoftheiceandsnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom's luck is a mixture of fantastic and awful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	less than ideal in more ways than one

**Author's Note:**

> Not even sure what this is, really, I'm just playing with these characters and hoping season 2 gives me canon queer romance, because leaving Neil with an injured Tom is a recipe for a beautiful love story lbr here.

The guy next to him - a Jewish man, with his daughter - keeps on saying reassuring things between concerned glances at the others, and Tom appreciates it but he's not really buying into the whole ‘you’ll be fine’ thing. He's soaked in his own blood and thinks he's seen his dead grandma more than once in the last thirty minutes, which is discouraging to say the least.

He supposes that this isn’t the worst way to go. He never really thought he’d survive the war, anyway, and he was wounded in the line of duty, saving as many people as he could, which he thinks is a pretty reasonable and honourable cause to die for.

When the truck comes to a crunching halt that makes him feel a little like he's going to throw up, he wonders where they are. Maybe a safe house? He’s not sure if there are even any around, but it can’t hurt to hope it’s somewhere run by people they can trust. He hears the door open and then slam shut, and he hears footsteps crunching on gravel as Neil rounds the truck.

"Jesus Christ."

He sounds mad and upset, which is equal parts flattering and infuriating, and if he had the strength he'd sit up and punch him in the nose for that lurching stop. As it is, he just lets out a groan, because the hand that's been pressing against his bullet wound for the entirety of the trip has just pulled away, and it causes a wave of pain to radiate through his stomach. The people around him are hurrying out of the truck, clamouring for some sort of instruction, and he assumes they’ll get it, but then Neil’s telling them to “hang the hell on” and he climbs into the truck, frowning as hard as ever.

He untucks Tom’s blood drenched shirt, eases the stained fabric up enough to see the angry, ragged hole in his abdomen, and he can’t hide the look of concern that flickers across his features. Personally, Tom can’t resist the urge to crack jokes.

“Whoa, whoa, buy me a drink first. I’m a classy broad, y'know.” He croaks around the taste of copper on his tongue, and Neil looks like he wants to leave him to bleed out in the back of the truck. That’s enough to make Tom grin like he hasn't got a hole in his torso.

"Your luck is bloody awful." Neil says as he presses a handkerchief over the wound. A sound of pain gets caught in Tom's throat and he chokes on it, biting the inside of his cheek and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Yeah." He sighs after the pain eases a little, and he lets his head tip back onto the floor. "S'alright. Not a bad way to die."

"Who said anything about dying?" Neil asks, and Tom cracks his eyes open, squinting at him incredulously. He doesn't look like he's messing with him.

"I don't think you can, uh... Save me with stubbornness alone, here, Neil,"

For half a second, he thinks a look of distress flickers across Neil’s face. Their eyes meet (he’s pretty sure this is the last time he'll get to see his eyes) and he opens his mouth to speak, but someone clears their throat as politely as possible. Tom can’t quite be bothered to lift his head enough to see who’s talking, he keeps his eyes on Neil, but it sounds like a woman.

“I was a nurse," she says, her accent thick but easily understood, "in the Great War. I can help him."

Well halle-fucking-lujah.

It takes the combined efforts of Neil and the only able-bodied man in the truck to get Tom to the safe house, all the while being scolded and tutted over by Ada, the nurse. She isn't pleased with any of this, apparently. That makes two of them. By the time he's lying on the cleared table, Tom feels like he's floating, which he knows isn't good and makes him more worried than he really wants to let on. He keeps his expression as blank as he can manage as Ada hurries around, telling people what to find for her and what to do. He doesn't think anyone would judge him for being visibly upset, considering there's daylight shining on his internal organs and the stabbing pain that just won't let up is getting harder to ignore, but he's stubborn at the worst moments and this is proving to be one of them.

Ada's back with Neil in tow, asking questions Neil can't answer, getting irritated because dealing with spies is a pain in the ass when you're trying to be helpful. Tom feels sorry for her. She smooths his hair away from his forehead in a strangely comforting manner, then finds his pulse and makes a face.

"How much morphine is there?" She asks, a question he's been wanting an answer to for the last hour. "He will need something for the pain."

"Not the ideal amount, I don't think." Neil replies, and Ada tuts again.

"I have made do with less.”

Tom feels the needle as she administers however much morphine he's allowed. It doesn't take too long to kick in, and he lets out a relieved breath when it does. He lets his heavy eyes slip shut and wonders if Ada will be able to save him.

"He is not to sleep, it isn't safe." She says, and he revokes the faith he had in her, feeling moderately offended. He wonders if he shouldn't just go to sleep out of spite, now.

"C'mon, Tom, you heard her. Eyes open." Says Neil, surprisingly soft. There's a warm hand heavy on his shoulder, a steady pressure, and when he doesn't respond to it, it moves to his neck. A thumb brushes against his cheek, and Tom forces his eyes open through sheer disbelief and surprise, squinting in the light.

Neil smiles, just a little.

"How bad is it?" Tom asks, and he's startled by how weak his own voice sounds.

Neil looks to Ada for an answer, and he hasn't moved his hand yet.

"I will do what I can." She says bluntly, sleeves rolled up past her elbows and a grim look on her face, which is pretty much the answer he was expecting.

She wastes no more time, scrubbing her hands until they're pink and then returning to the table with determination in her eyes. It's not so bad at first. Ada tells Neil what to get and when, and she works quickly and he can't feel much of anything. He doesn't want to chance looking because he knows he'll pass out if he does, so he lies still and counts the panels of wood on the ceiling. He thinks it could be worse.

Then it does get worse.

Neil was right when he said the amount of morphine wasn't ideal. It begins to wear off pretty fast, and when Ada gives him more it's only enough to keep him from biting his tongue off. Somewhere in the midst of it someone takes hold of his hand, and he’s not even sure how much it can help to grip someone’s fingers, but it helps to anchor him. Even so, dying's starting to look like a pretty good option by the time Ada straightens up and admires her work.

"I’ve done all I can and it looks promising." She says, and he manages to make a vague humming noise in response. "Are you afraid of needles?”

Tom’s confused by that, because she hasn’t asked him if he’s afraid of scalpels and tweezers and whatever the hell else she’s been using on him, and he’s frankly too squeamish and pained to take a look at what she’s been doing anyway. It occurs to him a second later that she’s talking to Neil, when he answers with an awkwardly fast “no”. He assumed Neil had gone off to calm their rescued civilians, but apparently he thought wrong.

It’s only then he realizes that it’s Neil’s hand he’s been holding.

The thought makes his chest give an uncomfortable squeeze and he turns his head to look at him, partly to check and partly to distract himself from the tugging feeling on his midsection as Ada sews him up.

He's been looking worn out for days, since Harry was hurt and they met the German radio operator, but Tom hasn't particularly noticed until now. He glances down and considers the bandage on Neil's hand, and he squeezes involuntarily as he feels a sharp pain from a new stitch.

"God I hope you're almost finished, cause the morphine is." He says faintly, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes with a wince.

He hears Neil make a noise that could be a poorly disguised laugh, and he finds himself wanting to smile.


End file.
